


why it is not a good idea to leave the education of angels to the idiot box

by loveinadoorway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: why it is not a good idea to leave the education of angels to the idiot box<br/>Pairing/characters: Cas/Dean<br/>Genre: slash, humor<br/>Rating: PG-13<br/>Word count: 325<br/>Warnings: none<br/>Spoilers: none<br/>Disclaimers: Just borrowed. Borrowed with love.<br/>Summary: comment_fic prompt by metallikirk: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, "I cut down trees. I wear high heels, Suspendies, and a bra, I wish I'd been a girlie, Just like my dear Papa."</p>
            </blockquote>





	why it is not a good idea to leave the education of angels to the idiot box

Castiel’s face was crunched up in utter confusion. He had thought dressing like Dean would make the human happy. Dean kept complaining about his outfit and the lack of variation, called him a “holy tax accountant” to his face, so Cas had been sure a change in style would be the appropriate reaction.

He had worked so hard to get it right.  
The inebriated, slightly wilted cowgirl in a bar the other night had asked Dean if he was a lumberjack. When Dean had said no, she had gone on a disjointed, rambling rant on how he dressed like one.  
Then they had watched this tv program one night. Dean had laughed uproariously and there had been this musical number about typical lumberjacks.

And then Cas had worked on his outfit. He had tried different color schemes and cuts, different types of underpants and shoes. Oh God, the shoes. It had taken him weeks to master the shoes.

He had solemnly appeared in front of his human and had slowly unbuttoned his flannel shirt. The purple bra, panties and suspenders went well with the tartan of the shirt and Cas had chosen the most difficult shoes he had found. The ones with the highest stiletto heels.

And now? Dean had fallen, collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard he was turning blue in the face from lack of oxygen.  
When Dean stilled, minutes later, Cas defiantly tilted his head.

“It would be of great assistance, could you point out the errors I made in assembling this,” he ground out.

“Dude, only one error. You do NOT take anything Monty Python sing, dance or say seriously. At all.”

Dean scrambled to his feet, pulled his wickedly sharp knife from the back of his jeans and in quick, deft motions cut bra and suspenders off Cas’ body.

“Keep the panties, lose the fucking shoes,” his hunter growled as he pulled Cas down on the bed with him.


End file.
